


Possessing

by Slythgeek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Breathplay, F/F, Lesbian, Light Bondage, Tie Kink, fabric kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythgeek/pseuds/Slythgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master wants the one thing she cannot possess.</p>
<p>Lesbian AU, a little PWP and very smutty, but don't let that stop you.</p>
<p>Special thanks to Marchingintime for inspiration and beta-reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessing

**Author's Note:**

> In the Evil Lesbiverse, the Doctor and Master have always identified their gender most with human females.

"Finally, Doctor, it's as it should be."

The Master sat behind the Doctor and carved out a space on the Doctor's bare shoulder with her chin. She brought her lips so close to the Doctor's ear that she could feel the motion of the Master's lips speaking her next words. "You, mine. The universe, ours."

Most of the Doctor's clothes lay discarded beneath her, a bed of stripes and blue cotton. She tried to focus on her breathing, making it slow and even so the Master wouldn't know she was reacting, but eventually the Master's hands would make it down her body to find out. The Master pressed her clothed body against the Doctor's naked back. Without the use of her arms, which were bound behind her with leather straps, the Doctor would have toppled forward had the Master not caught her around the middle.

"You're so quiet, Doctor," the Master muttered, walking her hands up the Doctor's body.

The Doctor abandoned her efforts to breathe evenly. "Do I even need to talk? Can't you feel anymore?" the Doctor said with the slightest sneer.

The Master continued in silence, winding the Doctor's tie around her hand until she reached the hollow of the Doctor's throat. She hooked her fingers into the bone and circled the fingers of her other hand in a figure-eight around the Doctor's breasts.

"I feel just fine, Doctor," the Master said. "The question is, 'Have you gone numb in your old age?'"

She pinched one of the Doctor's nipples between her fingers, and the Doctor exhaled sharply.

"Oh, my dear Doctor!" the Master sighed. "That was too easy. Are you easy, Doctor?"

"You would… kno –” The Doctor choked as the Master jerked the knot of the tie tight into her throat.

“You’ve gotten so good at hiding things from me,” the Master said, forcing the Doctor backward until she was looking down into the Doctor’s watering eyes.

The Doctor knew she was reacting to the Master’s touch, the silk digging into her neck, but in maintaining her mental barriers, she couldn’t bother with the physical. And now even those were crumbling. This particular body’s nerve endings seemed intimately connected to every part of the brain. The deep stroke of the Master’s fingernails down the center of her body forced her lungs to attempt a breath. She sputtered on the little air she was able to draw as the Master leaned down to her mouth and drew a strangled kiss from her lips. The Doctor heard drums pound momentarily in her head, flashes of imagery like damaged film run too many times through the projector.

“Will you give me everything, Doctor?” the Master said, her cheek pressed hard against the Doctor’s, voice low in her ear. “Even your last breath?”

“I – “ The Doctor gagged a few more sounds. She tried to swallow, but the Master tugged harder, pressing her weight down on the Doctor’s chest.

“What? Oh, do learn to string two words together, Doctor.”

She loosened the tie and wiped the sweat-soaked hair from the Doctor’s forehead. With one swift turn of her wrist, the Master gathered the hair tightly in her fist as she had done with the tie.

“I’ll ask again. Will you give me everything? Will you finally be mine, truly mine?”

The Doctor struggled to catch her breath from mingled excitement and suffocation. The air around them seemed almost to vibrate with their energy. Two Time Lords, brimming with shared knowledge, crashing into one another through eternity, whether by fate or some perverse form of love. Once again the Master wanted possession of something that could not be possessed, and the Doctor she wanted to possess most of all. The universe she would share if the Doctor were the prize for sharing.

“No,” the Doctor said.

“Not yet,” the Master said, pulling the tie free and trailing the ends down the Doctor’s body.

“Not ever,” the Doctor said firmly.

“We’ll see,” the Master said, tearing a few auburn hairs away and forcing the Doctor’s legs apart with a soft grunt, “about that.”

“You know,” said the Doctor, “you really didn’t have to tie me up. I would have done all of this willingly. Enjoyed it, even.”

“Oh, I think it’s obvious you’re enjoying it now. Besides, Doctor, I like you helpless.”

She dangled the end of the tie between the Doctor’s legs, tickling her labia. She slid it under the Doctor’s thigh and picked it up on the other side with her teeth. The Doctor shivered and bit her lip.

“Ah, you have to wait,” the Master said, closing the tie between the Doctor’s legs and clamping them between her own.

She removed her shirt slowly, pulling the laces with maddening exactitude. She dropped it to one side and slipped her bra down her arms, letting it hang for a moment like a curtain before she whipped it off as well. She shimmied up the Doctor’s body. She brought her breasts tantalizingly close to the Doctor’s face before pulling away. The Doctor’s mouth ached to feel their firmness between her lips, to take the Master’s nipples lightly between her teeth.

Either her mind or her face betrayed her thoughts because the Master said, “Ah-ah, Doctor. I go first.”

The Master pulled her own trousers down to her knees and closed her eyes to breathe in the scent of them both. New bodies and yet, every regeneration, they smelled the same – together like Gallifreyan field wine and the sharp tang of burning citrus.

“My arms really are taking a bit of a kip,” the Doctor said, fighting the urge to beg the Master to move faster. “Funny expression, that, arms falling aslee –”

With no warning, the Master dropped out of the Doctor’s line of sight. She felt a sharp pain as teeth bit the soft flesh between her legs.

“You should be watching,” the Master purred, and the Doctor lifted herself as much as she could to see the Master lift her sandy head and grin wickedly between the curves of the Doctor’s breasts.

The Master bit one more time, harder than before, and grasped the ends of the tie in her hands.

“Watch this.”

But the Doctor lost her balance as well as her concentration a moment later when the Master jerked the tie against her. The Doctor fell back into her clothing, unable to stop the gasp that escaped her.

“Oh, Master, she likes it,” the Master said mockingly.

She pulled the tie again, deeper into the Doctor, backward and forward, slow, fast, slow again like a song. The Master silenced the first moan with a kiss. She wrapped her legs around the Doctor, tight, drawing her clever, oh-so-self-righteous enemy into herself. The Doctor’s lips stopped responding to the kiss. Her tongue froze, and the Master held one end of the tie against her stomach, allowing the Doctor to fall limply into her arms with a sated gasp.

“You’re not done yet, Doctor,” the Master whispered. “Buck up for the second course.”

“That was… that was hardly a full course,” the Doctor said. She felt the raw burns left by the tie beginning to smart as some of the afterglow left her.

“Then you should be ready. Hungry, even, I daresay.”

The Master held the tie in front of the Doctor’s face so that it just brushed her nose.

“Look at that,” said the Master. “You ruined it. Going to have to explain that one to your dry cleaner. Oh, but it’s not entirely _useless_ , is it?”

The Doctor put on an affronted face. “Really, that’s one of my favorites, and now you’ve gone an –”

The Master pulled the tie across the Doctor’s mouth, holding the ends behind her head.

“You’ve always wondered why I chase you across the galaxies,” she said. “It’s because I can’t get this _taste_ out of my mind. You’re as bad as the drums.”

She tasted like sweat and stardust and vast, musty rooms. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but over Doctor, the flavor held no intoxicating power. The way the Master forced her tongue between the tie and the roof of the Doctor’s mouth, however, did. The Master used the ends of the tie to tilt the Doctor’s head up her thighs and down into her recesses where she held the Doctor’s mouth a moment. The Doctor fought to stretch her tongue around the gag, but she only got the slightest taste before the Master jerked her head upwards again, drawing their naked chests to each other. She tied the gag securely and fiddled with the buckles at the Doctor’s back. After a moment, the straps fell away, and the Doctor cried out at the pain of circulation reentering her arms. She started to flex her fingers, but the Master grasped her wrists and thrust her hands between them. The Doctor knew where to touch though it had been several decades and bodies ago, and her fingers felt swollen from numbness. When she glanced down at her hands, the Master grabbed her chin roughly and turned her eyes upward.

“Feel, Doctor. Feel everything.”

One of the Doctor’s hands stroked gently, finding again the most sensitive places on the Master’s body. The other the Master directed into herself, setting the rhythm before she let go and trusted the Doctor to finish the song with her rough, masculine fingers. The orange light of Gallifrey burst across the Doctor’s mind as the Master shoved her tongue deep under the gag, hooked it around, rubbed her teeth on the Doctor’s lip. The Doctor’s fingers gained feeling – warm, familiar places they remembered without her mind instructing them. A memory merged with reality. Two Time Lords, wrapped in the cover of night, tossed off their outer robes in the rustling grass. The Master, not yet the Master, hiked the not-yet-Doctor’s robe up to her stomach and… the Doctor wasn’t sure now who she was – a child on Gallifrey or the old lady who destroyed it, the outcast or the un-person, the hero or the villain.

The Master’s lips leaving hers broke the connection, and she didn’t even take the time to wonder how much of herself the Master had taken with her. Less controlled, and seemingly smaller now, the Master heaved a sigh against the Doctor’s chest. The Doctor thought for a moment how at peace she looked, bare and vulnerable and shaking, but the Master would never let that moment last. She grasped the knot of the gag and yanked the Doctor’s head back until it hurt.

“Brought so low with a little piece of silk,” the Master hissed. “All the defenses just – poof – gone!”

The Doctor sucked a moment at the tie as she untied it, tasting their combined flavors. They were better together, she and the Master. She’d spent centuries saying it.

“Mine now?” the Master asked.

“Not yet,” said the Doctor with a smile.


End file.
